


No Agent of Heaven

by deliciously_devient



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, So much angst, absolutely not sorry, probably no happy ended, siren!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Siren is very, very lonely. So when another hunter by the name of Castiel offers to off Dean in exchange for helping him track down the thing that killed his wife, Dean can't say anything but yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HigherMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/gifts).



> Okay, this is gonna be heavy in the self-loathing category so be warned. No self harm as of yet, but if that changes I will be sure to tag.

Being a siren was lonely, Dean thought.  
One would think that being the most sought after man in the room would be a huge ego boost, but it really, really wasn't. He got whatever he wanted from his brother, was constantly shunned by his father -really the only reason John hadn't killed him was because Dean was useful when it came to hunting- and no one...no one ever saw him.  
Whenever he'd go to a bar, sick and tired of being on the road alone with only monsters and his own thoughts for company, men and women alike would flock to him, ensared by his charm -and sometimes Dean was so, so tempted to do what his biology demanded and siphon off a little life energy from them, but he ate monsters so he didn't need to, but really, it was like he was missing half the nutrients he needed- but none of them ever took the time to get to know him beyond getting into his pants.  
Tonight, Dean was in a gay bar; he hadn't really planned it that way, but hey, he was in San Francisco so he might as well enjoy the gay scene while he was there; on the road there were slim pickings of the male variety, so a gay bar was a treat for himself. Not to knock women, but sometimes Dean just really needed a muscled, bigger man to pin him down and fuck him nine ways to Sunday.  
He'd only been at the bar for twenty minutes, quietly sipping his beer and just watching people, when his first suitor approached him. The guy was massive, almost a whole head taller than Dean, muscled but not grossly so, and eyes of the deepest blue he'd ever seen. He was clean cut, and wearing a t-shirt that looked as though it had been painted on, and Dean felt his mouth water just slightly.  
"Hey there gorgeous," the man purred, and oh, that was a voice Dean would like to fuck. "What are you doing here all alone?"  
Dean very slowly, very deliberately looked the man up and down, and licked his lips. "Looking for someone to take me home for a spin," he purred back, winking as he did so.  
*  
The sex was great; it was wild and almost violent, Dean begging the man to go harder, and the larger man obliging him, sinking his teeth into Dean's flesh and pounding his ass like he was going to win a medal for it.  
After -three rounds, Jesus- Dean was laying beside the man, panting and feeling very well-fucked, and he rolled to his side, putting his head on the man's chest, wanting to chase that glowing feeling of intimacy.  
"Um," the man said, shiftint uncomfortably. "I don't really do cuddling...or, y'know, staying the night-"  
"I'll leave," Dean cut in, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest. "Just...just for a moment, please. Just let me lay for a moment."  
The man had the oddest expression on his face as he looked at Dean, and he relaxed slowly as he looked at the smaller man. The hunter was sure what he found in his eyes, but whatever it was made the man nod, and relax. Dean closed his eyes and settled his head on the broad chest before him, and for a moment, just a moment, he pretended he was wanted.  
He pretended that he would fall asleep like this; that the man would card his fingers through Dean's hair and whisper that he loved him as he drifted off. That they would wake up together the next morning, and Dean would cook him breakfast and the man would smile and kiss him and just be with him. He pretended he would go to a normal job, live a normal life, and forget about all the horrors he'd seen, maybe have a family one day.  
But his moment was up; the man was shifting, and Dean could tell he was uncomfortable, so he sat up and began grabbing his clothes. The room was blurry, and he reached his hands up to rub them, only to discover that he was crying. He wiped the tears away angrily, huffing at himself, at his stupidity, and yanked his pants on.  
"Hey," the man said softly, and there was that odd expression again; pity, Dean realized with a hollow drop in his stomach. "You'll find someone. I'm sorry it can't be me but...I can't do relationships, really."  
Dean gave the man a watery smile, and shook his head as pulled his shirt on. "Nah, I can't either. I travel too much."  
"You must be lonely," the man said softly. Dean shrugged.  
"I've always been alone."  
The man was silent as Dean collected his jacket and other things, and spoke up just as the hunter reached the door.  
"Hey!"  
Dean turned, cocking his head to the side. "Yeah?"  
"If you're ever in town again...well, you know where I live. Maybe next time we can just, hang out. Or something."  
Dean smiled, and there was a pain behind the expression that the man couldn't fathom. "Sure."  
*  
Dean shoved all thought of the blue-eyed man out of his mind as he hit the road again. He thought about maybe going to visit Sam; he was in California, after all, and it had been almost three years since he'd last seen his brother. All the reasons he stayed away didn't seem to make much sense anymore, and he missed Sam. He deserved to visit his brother once in a while, didn't he? It would only be for a day and then he'd be back out of his brothers' life and hunting monsters again, just like he was supposed to.  
When he pulled up to the university, it was almost dark, and he turned off the engine and just sat there for a moment. He was so close to his brother he could feel it, knew he'd be greeted by a warm smile and a hug from his brother.  
He didn't move though, frozen in the Impala, a nameless fear sinking in the pit of his gut. Sam's never really loved you, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father's whispered cruelly. It's part of your nature, making people think they love you. If he really knew what you were, if you told him how much you affected him, he'd hate you, just like your dad.  
Dean closed his eyes, feeling that familiar lonliness well up inside him, and he braced his head with his hands, feeling like his chest was ripping itself apart. It wasn't fair. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't asked to be a freak, a monster. It wasn't his fault, but it was, wasn't it? It was his fault his mother had died, because that creature had been after him, because he was a freak. John had said as much.  
He heard voices and looked up, his heart breaking all over again as he saw Sam exiting his apartment building, smiling and laughing, hand in hand with a beautiful woman. Dean gasped softly, seeing the bright red thread of love that connected them, and felt his heart sink even more. He couldn't...he couldn't visit Sam, he realized. He couldn't bring on the sadness and anger that his visits always seemed to inflict, not when his little brother was so happy.  
He swallowed tightly, and started the engine, pulling out normally so as not to draw attention to himself, though he wanted to peel out like a maniac. His vision blurred, and he angrily wiped away the tears and shoved the pain away. It would get him nowhere, and he didn't want to dwell on it anymore.  
But even as he put miles and miles between himself and his brother, he still felt it, the lonliness, clawing at his stomach and making him want to curl up and die somewhere in a hole.  
When he finally stopped, he was somewhere in Colorado, and he was dead tired. He found a skeezy hotel, and flopped onto the musty smelling bed, falling asleep almost instantly. He woke to the sound of his cell ringing, and he groaned, fumbling for the device and putting it to his ear.  
"What?" he croaked.  
"Ya sound like shit," came the growling voice of Bobby.  
"What do you want Bobby," he asked, rubbing his eyes.  
"Got a call from Sam. Said he saw the Impala driving off near his apartment, thought he saw you in it."  
Dean sighed. "Yeah, that was me."  
Bobby's tone was disapproving when he spoke next. "And why didn't you tell him hi? You don't talk to him for three years, and then you just drop by and don't even get out of your car to say hello?"  
Dean felt a stab of guilt jerk through his chest, and he sighed heavily, feeling a hard weight settling on his heart. "He's happy, Bobby. I saw him with a girl, beautiful, and they're so in love it hurt to look at them. He deserves that, deserves that happiness, and I would only ruin it for him."  
Bobby was silent for a few moments, and Dean could see the sad expression on the older man's face in his mind's eyes. "Dean," he said, softer now. "You don't have to keep doing this to yourself. You deserve to be happy too."  
"No," Dean said softly. "No, I really don't."  
He hung up before the other man could respond, unable to take that soft, sorrowful tone when he knew he didn't deserve any kind of sympathy. He was a monster; maybe not as bad as some of the ones he hunted, but a monster still. And one day, there would be a hunter who found him and ended him, and the world would keep on spinning.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks of hard hunting on the road helped Dean forget about his brother; as much as he _could_ forget about his brother, which was to say, not at all. Three vampire nests and a wendigo later, however, Dean was sore, bruised and _starving_.

Sirens, as a matter of course, survived on a combination of regular human food and life energy; a well-balanced meal for a siren often included a near-raw steak and a vigorous round of horizontal jogging. Dean, however, didn't like to take life energy from unsuspecting people, even when the energy expelled during sex would just dissipate anyway. There was a deep, unrelenting self-loathing deep in his veins for what he was, and it was a simple matter to use his power to literally suck the energy out of monsters, so really, he didn't need humans to survive, but vampires were bad for his system (undead energy was like eating raw chicken-it didn't taste good and it made him sick) and the wendigo had had to be dispatched before Dean could get anything from him.

So there he was, starving, bruised and somewhere in upstate New York, considering going out to pick someone up just to sate the craving in his gut and get rid of his bruises, which he was really beginning to think were actually broken ribs. The thought disgusted him, and he felt like even more of a monster than usual, but it was this or wait for another monster and possibly be half starved out of his mind and therefore even more of a danger to the general populace. He'd never been starved, but he'd seen sirens who _were_ and it was not pretty.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face in his hands and standing to stretch; he wince, poked at a bruise -oh, ow, yes, definitely broken, fuck- and showered, dressing in his least-worn clothing before heading out. He found a dive bar without much difficulty -one perk of staying in ratty motels was how easy it was to find ratty bars- and he sighed as he slid into a bar stool, grinning at the bartender as he ordered a beer. He scoped out the patrons, licking his lips as he spotted some likely candidates. The girl over on the other side of the bar was eyeing him already, and he shot her a wink. Girls were easy, he thought; they flocked to him wherever he went, and he would be lying if he said he didn't like their soft bodies, breathy moans and damp thighs.

There was a sound beside him, and Dean turned from the bar girl to look at the man who had slid into the seat next to him. He had a very defined jaw, nice lips, and his hair looked like he'd just raked his hands through it, windswept and wild. But none of those features were what really got Dean; it was when the man turned his eyes to his, bright, piercing blue orbs that sliced Dean to the quick, that the siren knew he was well and truly fucked.

_Oh,_ Dean thought, feeling his mouth dry and his gut tighten. _This must be what love at first sight feels like,_ he thought, slightly dazed. The man's mouth curled in a slight smile, and oh, that made the effect even worse.

"You know," the man said, and sweet Jesus, Dean thought he could come from the sound of that voice alone. "The last time someone looked at me like that, I didn't leave my bedroom for two days."

Dean blinked, snapping out of his hotness-induced stupor, the predator in him coming to the fore as he deliberately, slowly, looked the man up and down, his green eyes sparkling with interest. "Well," he said. "How's about I buy you a drink and we try for three?"

****

Castiel, the man's name was; it was strangely fitting for the man who's eyes seemed to glow with an ethereal light. Oh, and his _scent,_ it was enough to make Dean want to bury his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe. They made their way back to the other man's hotel -real swanky place, he must be some kind of business man or something- and Dean found himself being _devoured._

There really was no other way to phrase how Castiel was licking into his mouth, his tongue both gentle and domineering, taking control and not asking questions. Dean willingly gave up his control, allowing the slightly shorter man to push him down on the bed, shedding stripping off his shirt. There was something so alluring about having Castiel above him like this, positioning his body just how he wanted it, the heat in his eyes enough to make Dean feel like he was burning up from the inside.

Castiel had him bare from the chest up, his mouth working on one nipple, Dean arching into the touch and feeling his bruised ~~broken~~ ribs healing themselves already, and he moaned at the heady feeling. Castiel was like a fucking buffet, his whole body radiating energy that he was just _giving_ to the siren. Usually the hunter had to work to extract energy, gently tug it from the person he was with, but the other man was just pushing it at him. 

Dean's eyes flew open when he felt something pierce his throat, but Castiel had him pinned, his face grim and his thumb on the depressor of a syringe. Dean felt the blood drain from his face, and he cursed himself a hundred times over for letting himself get in this position, and, ridiculously, feeling betrayed.

"This syringe is full of dead man's blood," Castiel said, low and fierce, his blue eyes glimmering with hatred, and Jesus, why did that _hurt_ so much from someone he barely knew? "If you move so much as an inch, I'll inject you and we'll have a dead little leach on our hands. Now, I'm only gonna ask once; where's the nest?"

Dean arched an eyebrow, and snorted, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. It wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for a vampire, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last, but this was by far the most interesting way he'd been caught. 

"You mean the nest I took out last night? Yeah bub, you're a bit late on that one, they've all been staked and sent back to Hell," Dean said, amusement coloring his voice. "And while you're dead man's blood would make me sick for a couple days, it wouldn't kill me; not a vampire. Though, I suppose, they might be considered distant cousins of mine, on the side of the family daddy never talked about." 

Dean opened his eyes, and yep, the look of confusion on the man's face was priceless; he had this little furrow between his brows that made Dean wanna reach up and smooth down, his blue eyes still intense, but thinking harder. "You _smell_ like a vampire," he said suspiciously, and Dean rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, if you take of my pants you'll see why," Dean said, amused still. The man glared at him, and Dean only grinned, making no motion to remove his pants to show the bite on his left calf. He could have thrown the man off, quicker than even a vampire, but he was curious about the other hunter. He'd never meant one good enough to get the drop on him like this before, and he wanted to know more about this Castiel.

Castiel removed his pants -Dean made a small noise of discontent, because despite the turn of events, his cock was still interested in the proceedings- and inspected the bite wound on Dean's leg with a frown. 

"This bite should not be this healed if you took on the nest last night," he said, glaring at Dean suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not human; one of the perks."

Castiel had a knife out and to Dean's throat almost faster than the siren's eyes could follow. " _What_ are you?" Castiel growled, and wow, that shouldn't be as arousing as it was. 

"I'm a hunter, first and foremost," Dean growled back. "I kill bad things, I'm not one of them. But if you really need to know, I'm a siren."

Castiel glared suspiciously at Dean for a long moment, before he slowly relaxed the blade from Dean's throat, but didn't withdraw it completely. "Can Bobby vouch for you?" he asked, and Dean grinned.

"Speed dial one."


End file.
